


Do You Remember

by LadyCleganeofTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Love Letters, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 18:12:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18504370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCleganeofTheNorth/pseuds/LadyCleganeofTheNorth
Summary: So I did a thing again. I know I’m usually a beta but hey, every now and then the fancy takes me and I knock out a little one shot.This was literally born in a Rite Aid parking lot in the sketchy part of town and whipped together quick on my phone after my new coach told me I needed to write myself a love letter. Not happening. My deal was that I would write a love letter fic.So here we are. Sansa writes a love letter of sorts.Thanks Hollandoodle for being my accidental beta on these random whims of mine. :-)





	Do You Remember

**Author's Note:**

> So I did a thing again. I know I’m usually a beta but hey, every now and then the fancy takes me and I knock out a little one shot. 
> 
> This was literally born in a Rite Aid parking lot in the sketchy part of town and whipped together quick on my phone after my new coach told me I needed to write myself a love letter. Not happening. My deal was that I would write a love letter fic. 
> 
> So here we are. Sansa writes a love letter of sorts. 
> 
> Thanks Hollandoodle for being my accidental beta on these random whims of mine. :-)

Sansa sat staring blankly, quill in hand, at the parchment sitting empty in the heavy weirwood desk. Setting the quill aside, she brushed several strands of her copper tresses back behind her ear, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. 

Would she never get her thoughts down in writing, she wondered to herself. She certainly so far failed in her efforts to  _ tell _ him how she felt. 

_ Him.  _ The Hound. 

No, she thought, he was no longer The Hound. The Hound had died at the Trident, so she had heard, and reborn in his place was a man, Sandor Clegane. 

Sandor. 

Sansa plucked the quill from the desk and dipped it in the small ink well and began her missive. 

_ Dearest Sandor- _

That would have to do, she thought shaking her head as she recalled his past disdain for what he viewed as false niceties. 

 

_ Dearest Sandor- _

_ I write you this letter not as the Lady of Winterfell but as your Little Bird, a very grateful Little Bird.  _

_ Your courage, your dedication, and your strength; you have no idea how much it means to me that you fought to protect my home. And me.  _

_ To be honest, I feared I would see you keep marching straight passed the castle walls. I can’t express to you though how glad I am that you stayed. Could you see this as your home, as it is mine? Could you see me as more than your lady? _

_ You see, you are so much more than a retainer to me. I do hope you realize that.  _

_ You are the Warrior made flesh, Sandor. I know you do not want to hear it and will believe it even less.  But know that you are perfect to me. _

_ The intensity I see in your eyes speaks to me of an inner strength I could only wish to possess. Would you continue to lend me your strength?  Not because I’m commanding you, but of your own free will?  _

_ Would you continue to protect me, not as a sworn shield but because I mean something to you? Do you remember so long ago on the parapets of the Red Keep?  You kept me from doing the unthinkable. In the throne room, you cloaked me; you must remember.  _

_ I could never hope to adequately express my gratitude to you for all you have done for me.  _

_ It is well known that I have said I would never again marry. However, the part that is conveniently left off by my would be suitors is that I will never again marry a man not of my choosing. That man will be brave, gentle, and strong.  _

_ Sandor, you are all those things to me. Gods!  What had come over me? I could never be so forward as to say this to your face! _

_ I am rambling now so it’s time I close this letter out lest I make a direct proposal of marriage! _

_ Please consider all that I have said.  _

_ Always yours, _

_ Sansa _

 

Sansa sat back while the ink dried on the parchment before carefully rolling and sealing it with her dire wolf stamp, choosing an autumn yellow wax, a new addition to her collection. 

She would go to his chambers and simply hand over the scroll and be on her way, planning her attack in her head. No one would see anything improper about that, she thought to herself as she left her solar and made her way through the halls. 

Arriving at his door, Sansa knocked tentatively, her confidence slowly slipping away.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she whispered to herself. As she was turning to leave she heard the door open and heard Sandor’s deep, confused rasp, “Little Bird?”

Sansa turned to look at him, his black hair pulled off his face in a leather thong, shirtless, and a few drips of water running down his neck disappearing into his chest hair.  

_ Shaving, _ she thought once she had roused herself from the shock of coming face to face with the bare chested object of her desire. 

Quickly pulling the scroll from the pocket of her dress she hastily shoved it toward him and made a rapid retreat back to her chambers. 

“What the fuck was that all about?” Sandor wondered to himself as he closed his chamber door. It took him a brief moment to remember the scroll in his hand and break the waxen seal as he sat down to read the words Sansa had written. 

As he finished reading, Sandor sat back in his chair and scrubbed one large hand down his face. 

_ Could it be true?  Could the Little Bird fancy him as he had fancied her for so long _ . 

He thought that he had kept his reasoning for all he did to himself. It seems the Lady of Winterfell was paying more attention than he thought. 

Sandor set the scroll on the table and made his way to the heavy trunk at the end of his bed and sorted through his clothing choosing a grey tunic. 

It’s a Stark color, he thought, Sansa would like that. 

Sandor finished dressing, leaving the laces of his tunic loose showing more of his chest than was strictly proper. “She’ll like that too,” he smirked to himself. Grabbing the parchment from his table he left the chamber only just managing to not slam the door in his rush. 

His long strides quickly brought him to the heavy wooden door of the chambers belonging to the Lady of Winterfell. Sandor took a deep breath, knocked on the door and waited. 

Sansa had sat in her overstuffed chair in front of the fireplace with her head in her hands since she had so hastily left Sandor. She couldn’t look at him now knowing what she had written and knowing that there was no taking it back. Things between them would be forever changed. 

Second guessing the decision to deliver him such a letter spilling out her feelings, Sansa’s head snapped up and toward the door as she heard the familiar knock. 

“What is he doing here?” she thought aloud. Her stomach fell as she made her way to the entry. “Time to face the music _ ,” _ she conceded with a sigh, and opened the door. 

Her eyes widened as she took in Sandor standing there in her doorway. She gulped as she noted that the laces of his tunic were left lose showing the top of a what Sansa knew to be a thick pelt of black chest hair. 

His always intense grey eyes gazed down at her sparkling like steel as he held up her letter. 

“We need to talk, Little Bird.”


End file.
